


One More Notch

by badly_knitted



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Community: fic_promptly, Gen, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 02:49:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6035085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badly_knitted/pseuds/badly_knitted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fighting vamps has become routine for Buffy, but the dust is a nuisance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One More Notch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maab_Connor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maab_Connor/gifts).



> Written for maab_connor’s prompt ‘BtVS, any slayer, the taste of vamp dust in the air,’ at fic_promptly.

The fight is fast and brutal, blows struck and parried in rapid succession by both combatants before it ends the way such battles inevitably do. After all, he’s a vampire and she’s the Slayer, there’s only one possible outcome; she wins and he’s dust. A quick lunge, a stab with the ever-faithful Mister Pointy, and the vamp goes poof; one more notch on Buffy’s stake. 

In the early days, she’d been afraid every time she’d faced a vamp, but now it’s become routine. The fights still bring on the same old adrenaline rush, some things never change, but now she’s confident of her abilities, she’s honed her skills and she knows she can win. 

One thing she thinks she’ll never get used to though is the dustiness involved. Compared to demons, vamps die cleanly, but their powdered remains get everywhere, she can taste the dust in the air she breathes, gritty and harsh on her tongue, tickling the back of her nose and throat, making her want to cough or sneeze. She pulls a face and spits discreetly to rid herself of the taste.

Brushing her hands over her clothes sends up clouds of the stuff, and she ruefully wipes her face on one sleeve. It’s a hot night and she’s worked up quite a sweat, so now she has bits of the dead undead clinging to the dampness of her skin. She’ll need to do a thorough deep-cleanse before she goes to bed or it’ll block her pores. The last thing she needs now is a zit; the spring formal is less than a week away.

Shaking her head so that the faint breeze can blow the last traces of vamp dust from her hair, she tucks Mister Pointy back in the waistband of her stylish pants and moves on; patrol first, beauty treatment later, then sleep if she has time. Tomorrow’s a school day.

“God, I hope I didn’t have homework.”

The End


End file.
